textualhealing | IC CONTACT

[There's the most innocuous knock at the door of Jeff's office. Not an angry pounding but a rapping that's just loud enough to be heard even if Jeff happens to be on the phone or something. Jesse knows that Jeff's in there. He's been waiting and watching for the right opportunity, the chance to catch Jeff alone. And here it is.]

[Jeff's been keeping himself busy. Occupied. Distracted. Right now he seems content enough to idly play on his phone, feet up and lounging with a scotch beside him, but the knock certainly makes him pause. Maybe he's still a little jumpy, but he feels like he has reason to be.]

Not taking clients today. Come back tomorrow. [Shouting from his desk because he's sure as hell not moving, not yet anyway, but he sure is eyeing that door with an unwavering stare.]

Open the door or replace it tomorrow.

[Honestly. It isn't bulletproof.]

[Well. Shit. That's a voice he recognises. Maybe Jesse just wants to talk about drug... stuff...]

Alright! Jeez. Coming. [Snappy as pushes himself away from the comfort of his desk and slinks towards the door. This is fine. He's fine. Everything is fine. With a deep inhale he pulls himself up, shoulders rolling back and chest out to make more out of his size, unlocking the door seconds later.] What?

[As soon as the door opens, Jesse looks Jeff up and down, then looks over his shoulder just to be sure. Yep, yeah, no one else back there. Jeff's just unnecessarily puffing himself up to face someone half his size.]

Don't be an idiot. Lemme in.

[For being twice Jesse's size, Jeff is still hesitant, unfamiliar with this kind of game beyond what he's seen on TV and in movies. He remains peacocking for only a few more linger seconds before he almost physically deflates, head lowering and shoulders sloping as he stands aside, gesturing vaguely to allow Jesse's entrance while still eyeing him skeptically.]

[There's a pistol at Jesse's hip and he's not making any effort to conceal it, but it's not in his hand and he doesn't move to reach for it now, either. He steps right in and wanders over to Jeff's desk, casually perusing the papers in sight without fixing on anything in particular.]

Relax. If I wanted to kill you, I'd send somebody else.

[Gun seen and noted. Jeff's only real defence against something like that is to not give reason for it to be drawn in the first place. It'll be difficult for him to be on his best behaviour though, even with that visual threat looming over them.

He pushes the door closed behind them both with a soft click but leaves it unlocked.]

Great to know. So, why are you here? It's either for Mr. White, because of Mr. White or, my favorite option, you wanna be a client and give me a whole bunch of money.

Well... You really ain't doing a great job of selling me on your services, Jeff.

[So they'll put a pin in that thought for now. Jesse reaches out and starts flipping through papers. Mostly just because.]

I'm guessing you already turned over everything you had on me.

[A shrug, ignoring the dig at his work for the most part, still watching from a short distance away. He'll allow the paper rifling, let Jesse assert that bit of dominance.]

Is this gonna be about the whole... watching thing? Because I already called that off.

[Yes, do allow him. He's thinking about setting fire to the desk right now.]

Sure you did. But you delivered the goods, right? Damage done.

There wasn't that much to hand over. It wasn't even about you. You weren't the target.

[As if that makes it all better. Surely if Jeff can handle being followed around by a TV crew, these guys can cope with a bit of attention too.]

Joel's one of my people. That makes me the target.

[Jesse gives a glance around the room.]

You got any whiskey or anything?

Well, I know that now. [Muttered under his breath. He's still learning, and things in this world move fast, faster than he can sometimes handle.

And then louder:] Uh, yeah. Bottom left draw, by my chair. There's glasses in there too.

[Jeff edges forward just slightly, prepped to reach for his own half full glass on the desk if he gets the chance. If he is going to die, he'd much rather do so while filled with booze.]

Look. I'd never heard of the guy before. I just figured he was a rival in the business or something. Y'know, maybe White was just trying to scope out the competition. I don't... I don't do private stuff. If I'd known it wasn't business related, I'd never have accepted it.

[Jesse steps around the desk and helps himself to the whiskey, pouring himself a full glass and refilling Jeff's while he's at it. He sets the bottle right there on the desktop for easy access.]

Shit, you really got no idea what you're getting into with Mr. White.

[He takes a sip.]

I guess the first thing to know about him is business is always personal.

[It's only after Jesse's got a glass in his hand that Jeff reaches in for his own, stepping back again once he's obtained it and moving with the slowness of a man facing a loaded gun. No sudden movements and maybe no one will get hurt.]

Okay. I'm starting to get that already. I mean, he wanted to keep watching. Like. Indefinitely. I guess I kinda wanted to get found out just to put a stop to it. [A slow sip in return, swallowing thoughtfully before tacking on:] You realize he's probably a psychopath, right?

[Jesse lets out a giggle that's verging on unhinged.]

Oh yeah, I know.

[And maybe - just maybe - Walt's not the only crazy one in these here parts.]

And Jeff, I got a problem here, because I feel like... You're telling me it's over, and this isn't the shit you're usually into, and you're out, and all that. And I just - I feel like I got no reason to believe you.

I mean, if Mr. White walks in here tomorrow and drops off a big pile of cash, are you really gonna say no? And then you're all up in my business again, following my boys, and that's a big problem for me. How am I supposed to bust a nut when I'm wondering if you're sitting outside with your binoculars and your camera? I mean, seriously.

[And this is why Jeff really needs to stop having greed as his main motivator, because apparently all the rich drug lords are batshit. That laugh is getting a slow arch of an eyebrow anyway, as are the words that follow.]

I'm not out out. He's still my client, I'm not gonna lie to you about that. I shouldn't even be telling you that but I know you know that already. I'm his lawyer, I deal with law, not spying on people and crap like that, but you've got to admit those huge stacks of cash are pretty hard to say no to.

Yeah, I totally get it. Trust me.

[Jesse takes another sip of whiskey before setting his glass down. He picks up the nearest paper and starts idly rolling it in his hands, forming a tube.]

It's hard to find anything more convincing than money. I can't argue with that.

So you see my issue. On the plus side he's probably not gonna have Joel watched again, right?

[So there's no more problems! Everything is solved. They can all live happily ever after, the end. Still watching Jesse like a hawk though, hands all over his paperwork.]

Who knows? Like you said, he wanted it to go on forever.

[Jesse does an odd thing, then, and dips his paper tube into his whiskey. Stirring it around with not much of a care if it's spilling over the sides.]

So maybe he'll convince you to be back at it tomorrow, for all I know.

[Uh.]

Uh? Can you not? [That's good whiskey, bro. Also confidential papers or something. But seriously, good whiskey.]

[Jesse looks up at Jeff and nonchalantly tips his glass over. Look at that beautiful whiskey now coating everything on the desk.]

[It's like watching the dickiest of all cat vids. Except it's Jesse and Jeff's expensive alcohol.]

Don't eve-- Oh, c'mon. [Jeff's just left watching as that beautiful amber liquid spills across the majority of the desk. No point in even trying to move in to clear that up while Jesse's still standing there.] You happy now? You got that out of your system?

Nope.

[But give him a second. He has to fish his lighter out of his pocket. And once he's got that in hand, he holds up his paper tube and lights the alcohol-soaked end of it. Fwoomp. Now it's a rapidly burning paper torch.]

backdated to like a day or so after Joel did the thing

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